Hope

About the Book:

She hasn't slept in weeks. She's losing her mind and her soul to an invisible enemy. She's out of time and she's out of hope. When Elizabeth Baynes travels to New York City for an answer she doesn't really believe is coming, she has a decision to make.

What she finds is more hope than she knew existed.

Coming in 2015

Faith

Book Two: The Day We Met Series by Amazon Best Selling Author Marjorie Jones

Praise for Hope:

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Hope

Excerpt

In an impossibly short few
moments, Hope’s grandmother returned with a silver tray. She was apparently
stronger than she looked. The tray held two bowls of soup, two glasses of wine
and a large, silver teapot. She set it
on the table in the center of the room and handed each of them a steaming bowl
of minestrone soup. Then she settled into a feminine version of the chair she’d
given to Bette and picked up her knitting needles. “Now. You tell me about you. You are in love
with my Hope?”

Bette choked on her
soup. She wouldn’t have answered if she
weren’t coughing, or maybe she was thankful she was coughing so she didn’t have
to answer.

“Grandma!” Hope replied,
exasperation adding more to the word than volume. “No. Not everyone girl I
bring home is a new girlfriend. They aren’t all in love with me.” She leaned
toward Bette and continued. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about that.”

“Why should they not all
love you? You are a wonderful girl. And a doctor. You will be wealthy some day,
and now, you can get married. Of course,
they are all in love with you.”

“No, Grandma. Bette is a friend of mine. From work. That’s
all. We were hungry and I knew you’d have something warm on the stove.
Something delicious and healthy.”

“Healthy? What do I know
of healthy. I make it the way my mother did. And her mother.”

Bette leaned over to
whisper to Hope. “Are you gay?”

She nodded.

“And your grandmother is
okay with that?”

She nodded again. “I’m one
of the lucky ones, I think. But yes.”

“I’m old, but I’m not
deaf. I can hear everything. Bette, are you one of the unlucky ones?”

That was a loaded
question. Unlucky how? Unlucky that she was probably going to die soon? Unlucky
that she’d never been in love? Unlucky that her mother refused to acknowledge
that her daughter was gay and probably going to hell? “You could say that.”

“Why are you unlucky?”

“Grandma, please. Maybe
Bette doesn't want to talk about it.”

“Hush. Your friend is
talking.”

Bette swallowed her
mouthful of soup. “Uh... I guess my family isn’t super excited about having a
gay daughter, that’s all. I should have been born a boy. Or a real girl. Either
one would have made them happier, I suppose.”

“You are a real girl. And
if you were a boy, you wouldn’t be as pretty.”
She smiled, the heat of a
blush climbing her cheeks. Who was this old broad? “I guess.”
“Where are you from?”
“Utah.”
“Ach. It’s the Mormons,
then. You are a Mormon, yes?”
“As a matter of fact,
yeah.”
“There are some in my
church who do not like it, either. Catholics can be very strict about some
things, but I prefer to understand. God made you, and me, and mia bella
bambina, just like He wanted us. He doesn’t make junk. He made you to be
happy.”
Did He? There wasn’t much
evidence of it.
“You don’t believe me. I
can see it in your eyes.”“No,
ma’am. I don’t. I’m sick, kind of. I’m dying. I don’t work with your
granddaughter. I’m her patient.”